


there's a warmth to every water

by afellowofyellow



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Background Relationships, Love, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, boys wear dresses, inspired by a mixture of jane austen novels, more background characters, so has a mix of her story elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afellowofyellow/pseuds/afellowofyellow
Summary: there was one thing Renjun had always been lacking in — separating himself. the young boy was quite accomplished; he played the piano well, was groomed to an extent of intimidating beauty, and held intriguing conversation. but, still, Renjun had no specialty of his own.that was, until a certain gentleman began to show him that what was taught as strange and unwelcome was truly extraordinary.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 33
Kudos: 45





	1. jack-o-lanterns

**Author's Note:**

> so, i'm no historian - what knowledge i have is from charlotte and emily bronte, jane austen, and period dramas. bear with me please ! much love and enjoy !

✰

At twenty, Huang Renjun was no more special than his siblings as he had been at ten. Kun still remained with the handsomest air, Yangyang held the most conversation, and Chenle the most accomplished in musicality. That did not go as to say that Renjun had grown to be _unaccomplished_ – he held just as much training and beauty behind the piano forte as his siblings, just as much loveliness as the eldest, and spoke with just as much intelligence and livelihood as could be conjured in one his age – he simply held no specialty unique only to himself.

His family held a great wealth, at least as great as one could imagine with a clergyman of high financial standing – earnings of seven hundred pounds per year in addition to the tutoring of schoolboys – and it seemed rather great in the small town located just west of Lacock, Wiltshire. They had a fine house, attended fine balls, and wore fine clothes. Though, still, none of the sons had managed to marry.

Kun was the eldest and a boy of the utmost beauty – his hair a sandy blonde that shimmered white like pearls and moonlight under the sunniest of summer evenings, and his eyes held a similar twinkle of light that accompanied his pale features like a reflection of their shine – yet, at his age he remained unengaged. It was no lie that at the age of four and twenty he had received his fair share of offers – but alas, he had remained a fleeting piece of heaven no one could conquer (or bring themselves to try).

Chenle and Yangyang had yet to be introduced into society, though Yangyang, at the age of seventeen, was to attend his first party alongside his elder siblings. Chenle had taken it upon himself to continuously whine against the fact of his staying home ( _the Langford’s let their daughter come out at_ fifteen, _why can’t I_?).

Renjun, however, was quite the family’s oddity. Having been introduced into society at the age of sixteen, a certain agility and angelic manner to his movements that entranced alongside his elegant features, Renjun had been offered merely one partner in dance and held scarce conversation with others since. “He had an air of snark,” as his mother would tell him, “that simply warded off all possible engagements.” He thought it quite untrue – Renjun was a quiet boy, and, whilst on occasion he would snicker behind a gloved hand into the ear of his brother, he had never paid insult to any kind of man.

That was, other than the man whose pursuits he repeatedly denied.

The air of the library was drafty; a peculiarity not dismissed by the boy as he flipped a page of the novel in his lap, and still the window remained perched open. It was odd, that the only warmth in the room was due to the fact of its being ajar as opposed to it providing a breeze meant to cool, and Renjun shifted in his chair closer to the spring shine. The only sound that resounded around him was the shuffle of parchment and the noises that usually accompanied the dry spring days of Wiltshire; birds fluttered past and leaves rustled alongside soft breezes. On occasion Kun would groan with the misplacement of thread over his embroidery work, to which Renjun would regard him with a snigger, and then the room would plunge once more into a dull and humming silence.

A piano key struck from the drawing room, the pluck of strings in a chord echoing vibrantly into the pair’s ears. A melody unfolded in the quietude.

Renjun looked up, staring to the distant wall with glassy eyes as his ears tuned to the notes that chased each other down each phrase and through each lilt, legato giving way to lively staccatos that should have belonged in an energetic waltz but still seemed to sit perfectly in the yearning piece of music. It stopped abruptly and Renjun stole his eyes away to his book, inferring the scribble of his youngest sibling’s kohl over sheet music before his appendages began to continue their bound over the keys. The house was no longer quiet.

The door sprung open and Renjun cocked an eyebrow to Yangyang as he dropped onto the floor beside his armchair. Kun set his needlework onto the arm of his futon.

“Am I to wear a gown?” he began, his chin rested upon the cushion beside Renjun’s thigh and he glanced upward to Kun as the boy stared toward him.

“You’ll wear as you please. Pants or dress is not of my concern,” Kun arched his brows as the younger spoke.

“Had not he better wear a dress when presented initially?”

“I wore a stock and cravat,” Renjun shrugged and Yangyang snorted from where he leant against the chair leg, his legs sprawled behind him.

“Very true; yet see how that has turned up so many offers,” Yangyang dodged Renjun’s swat. “Speaking of such – shall we see Mr. Wong? Upon my word, I do wish to see _that_ interaction.”

“You’ll do no better than I by being so disagreeable. Do not speak of such that you do not understand,” he flicked his eyes toward Kun’s frown, “I propose we put him in that odd gown – rather unfashionable to make him off-putting.”

Kun smiled softly, stretching to grab hold over his embroidery once more as he began to work the fabric. With each push and pull of the pin over the cloth a soft pop filled the silence, working in a duet with the melody of the piano in the adjacent room. The warmth of daylight continued to stream in from the window beside him and he turned, stretching an arm to push the panes away further and bask in the warmth.

“Your silence speaks thousands, Kun. You are right – then we wouldn’t be able to get rid of him.” Kun laughed.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with him – what with your leaving for Bath.”

He hummed, “Very certain, indeed, so I suppose we shall dress him as such.”

Yangyang fell back onto the carpet with a sigh, his feet twisted awkwardly below him and Renjun looked down to him mirthfully. He prodded a finger into the strip of skin between his sock-clad foot and knee breeches and the younger twisted away, his nose scrunched in petulance as he stuck a tongue from his mouth in his direction. Renjun lifted a hand in threat.

The piano halted, the loud clack of its lid being shut resounding through the thin walls surrounding. Chenle’s footsteps entered the room and they all simultaneously turned to him. He wore simply undergarments, the pale white of the petticoat brushing across his calves as he halted in the doorway with a bright grin, and Renjun arched a brow as the boy swiped his palms against the thin cotton dress.

“Had we had company – what shall you have done then, Chenle?” Kun prompted, a small frown marring the angelic features of his face, and Chenle simply shrugged, dropping onto the space of the sofa at Kun’s feet. He grabbed his feet with a chuckle as the elder kicked away.

“I would not have come in, then.”

“You would not have _known_.”

“I am afraid I simply _cannot_ be left here alone. A gentleman may come by and I shall greet him with vulgarity in my dress. I must attend the ball.”

“You shan’t,” Renjun countered, a grin over his face. “For the sole reason of your vulgar dress – impolite and unprepared for society,” he enunciated his words tightly with a grin as Chenle shot him a glare. A soft wind bristled over them in accompaniment with the cold walls of the room and diminished the warmth of outdoors. He shivered slightly and glanced out the window.

“I fear we may all catch cold. The house seems to believe it remains December,” he added as side thought, his eyes trained on the sprouting buds of distant trees.

“I am certain Bath holds pleasanter warmth.”

“No, indeed, Uncle Doyoung writes that it is very nice. I am afraid I know no one in such a multitude of people – I will miss you greatly in such solitude.”

“Oh, but you are sure to make some acquaintances – perhaps to even wish for a _large_ acquaintance to join your company. You should be glad to soon attend such grandeur and fine parties.” Kun then held his needle over the fabric, and Renjun watched the thread as it pulled in lavender flowers over the beige cloth.

“Undoubtedly, though I still fear how very uncomfortable it may be.”

“There are few people that Uncle Doyoung and Taeyong do not know.”

Renjun hummed, dismissing the conversation and turning to glance back to the words that unfolded over the novel before him. He bent his knees, shoving his feet onto the cushion of the chair, and rested the back of his hands that held the book atop them. From the floor, Yangyang closed his eyes and Chenle set his chin over Kun’s shoulder to gaze over his needlepoint. The room resolved to silence with the occasional shift of parchment and rustle of wind.

The glow of candles was warm, the flames licking over the air on their wicks and casting shadows to dance alongside their silhouetted counterparts across the walls like magic. Renjun flattened the front of his gown and continued through the crowd, his shoulder carving space for his feet to tread by as he followed in pursuit of his siblings.

The dresses that swirled around him formed a palette of soft pales – pinks, greens and blues molding alongside trains of beige and ivory to smear across a canvas like oil paints depicting pastel water lilies over an expanse of blue. The room itself was scattered in gold, though just enough to remain tasteful and not overdone, the chandeliers dropping down in dewdrops of diamonds that glinted below the candlesticks built to glow ever more.

Renjun looked to his own dress, white muslin decorated in a swirl of blue thread that shone like sapphire – Kun had taken it upon himself to embroider the plain frock, as he had claimed with a scrunched nose had looked like a bed sheet in its simplicity – and he ran a finger across the blue ribbon of his waistline. It pooled down his hips to rest just brushing the floor with a drape similar to a bride’s veil. He thought it rather pretty, the neckline haloing around his shoulders to leave the thin of his collar bones exposed in want of cooler air, and he tugged the soft puff of a sleeve correctly over his shoulder before curling his hands to rest politely over his abdomen.

Kun stopped his ascent further into the dense room to drop onto a chair, Yangyang and Renjun collapsing just beside him. They could see, through the wax and wane of the crowd, a thin strip of those dancing. Renjun tilted his head and studied the company of the room with a keen eye.

Beside him, Yangyang tugged a stocking further up his calve, and surveyed the crowd alongside his brother.

“Miss Morton and the soldier seem a rather unlikely pair,” Renjun heard him whisper to the two and he glanced over, trailing his eyes to where Yangyang gazed.

“I suppose so.”

“I wonder at how they met. I would quite like to be introduced.”

“Well, I cannot do it.”

Kun hummed, glancing over the siblings beside him, “Indeed, we must await Father from the card-room.”

“I don’t suppose someone may approach us?”

Renjun hummed to the younger, scampering his eyes over tips of heads to spot the slowly diminishing candles. He spotted one being relit, the swirling of skirts and lively dance having extinguished it where it rested high above. The wick caught and it licked orange across the air.

Renjun lowered his eyes to the mass of people and his gaze caught on a head of dark hair, speedily approaching through the parting crowd. He cocked an eyebrow and let a small laugh escape the seal of his lips as the boy perched beside him.

“Renjun,” spoke the boy, his voice hushed to remain masked almost entirely by the flitting chatter around them, “will there be any harm in my leaving the party?”

He tilted his head, glancing over the boy beside him. His hair was pushed from his forehead near effortlessly, a few strands laid loose to curl just above the prominent arch of his brow, and the dark of his eyes were squinted into the populous crowd. Renjun knit his brow.

“Why – have you taken offence?”

Dejun scrunched his forehead, “Me? I take offence? An unlikely thought, my dear friend.”

“Nay, then why do you wish to go?”

The dark haired boy turned to face Renjun his chin lowered as he leant in as though to share many a secret. Renjun cocked his head to the side, turning to face Dejun’s cheek as he spoke with a slight breathlessness directed into his ear – the kind that accompanied sharing a wanton story in the presence of its culprit.

“I am afraid Mr. Ainsley has taken a liking to me.”

Renjun balked, pulling his head back harshly to blanch toward the elder. “Recently widowed Mr. Ainsley?”

“There is not another?”

“I am unsure of his kin.”

“He has no son.”

Renjun leaned in to continue in a whisper toward Dejun, “And he is taken with you?”

“Indeed. He asked to engage my first _two_ dances and I said I already had such an engagement. I fear-”

“Nothing good is to come of two boys sharing secrets at a party. What _do_ you whisper about?” Renjun snapped his eyes up, locking them with a similar pair of near black – though, ones that swirled in a softer shade, specks of brown enrapturing the dark pupil – and releasing a light chuckle as he shot Dejun a glance from the corner of his eye.

“I’m afraid, Mr. Wong, that such a question may be impolite.”

“Oh, mind my being improper – I do apologize – I simply could not resist my curiosity,” he bowed slightly, “Mr. Huang, Mr. Xiao – it is always a pleasure – you know my elder brother, Lucas Wong,” he lifted a hand to gesture to the taller gentleman beside him. Renjun shot him a tight smile.

“We are acquainted, yes.”

Renjun felt the boy’s eyes remain traced over him and he turned to Dejun, his mouth poised open as he grasped for words. Dejun flicked his eyes to the bench behind him and he widened them, jumping slightly. “My brothers,” he nodded his head in the direction of the two on the bench as he addressed Kunhang, “Yangyang and Kun Huang.” The two bowed slightly and the siblings opposite them mirrored in response. Yangyang’s mouth broke into a bright grin.

“Mr. Wong,” he spoke to Lucas, “it had been so long since you’ve called upon us at home – do be so kind as to visit.” Renjun lifted a foot, covered by the length of his gown, to kick against the bone of Yangyang’s socked ankle. The boy flinched and hissed at the elder, his eyebrows pulled together with the narrow of his eyes.

“You tumble my gown, Dear.”

“My apologies, _Dear_ ,” Yangyang sneered and Dejun giggled behind Renjun as Kun shot the pair a squint of disapproval. Renjun broke into a grin, morphing it polite as he addressed the pair of gentlemen.

“I do wish Dejun could dance,” he saw the boy’s eyes widen as he turned to face him. “He’d do well to have a partner.” Kunhang barked a laugh and extended a hand to the seated boy with a grin. Renjun watched Dejun fidget, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down slightly as he hesitated.

“Would you do me the honor, Mr. Xiao?”

It was most definitely not the first time Dejun had ever taken Kunhang’s hand in a waltz, nor was it anywhere near an extent of possible that it’d be the last, yet still the boy’s cheeks flooded with a darkened rouge – heightened by the dark glow of candles that casted his face in shadowy gold. Dejun was no stranger to dances – he’d been long since congratulated as _splendid_ (such was to be expected of a child born to the wealth his familiar was accustomed) – and he made very little fault in the gentle steps and bows of such.

And there was no better match for him than Kunhang Wong.

Renjun watched as he slipped a palm into the gentlemen’s hand and pulled himself upward, the green of his trousers darkening in soft wrinkle. Lucas turned to him.

“Shall we go for tea, Mr. Huang?” Lucas’ own elbow was extended for him, an invitation to walk the expanse of the room to the tables for tea. Renjun hummed, slanting his eyes to Kun with a tentative air; desperate for an excuse to be provided as to why ‘ _no_ , I actually cannot’. Kun didn’t provide.

“Had we not better wait for when others retire from dancing – when everybody is in motion for tea?”

“Very true; let us take a turn about the room – you may admire the dancing.”

Renjun inhaled wearily, pushing up off the bench and flattening a hand over his skirts to settle them. He slipped his grasp over Lucas’ wrist and they continued forward, pushing through the mass of gowns and humans. He cleared his throat gently.

“People will think we are courting.”

“I am glad of it.”

Renjun stiffened, his footsteps faltering for a moment before he continued, his chin tilted high. “Do be conscious of your etiquette, Mr. Wong. You seem quite brash.”

Lucas stopped, tugging Renjun’s hand to pull him to a halt before him. He turned to face him completely. “I have made my intentions quite clear-”

“And I, mine, Mr. Wong. Have you misunderstood me since you last called upon us? You have my imminent _refusal_ , Sir.”

“Renjun,” he stood uncomfortably close and Renjun stepped slightly back, his ankle near buckling behind him as his brow knit together. Renjun chest ticked with pity. “Would it not be a shame for us to part-”

“Mr. Wong-”

“Mr. Huang.” They stood in silence for a moment. “Does not your family enjoy my company? Do not I have reasonable wealth? Am I not an agreeable man? Your brother asks me to call upon your family – would I not be a pleasant husband, and an acceptable one to your family?”

“My family does not have a say in my courting. You make an agreeable husband, Mr. Wong, but not mine. I apologize,” Renjun stepped further away, narrowly missing a body behind him. Lucas remained where he stood, a soft frown marring his lips.

Lucas was a kind and welcome man – with that Renjun held no doubt – but he was not of a spectacular interest to the boy. He’d offered his hand to the younger a fortnight prior in the confines of their library bookcases and since the offhanded rejection at _such a_ ridiculous _offer_ he’d avoided any little encounter between them.

Until then, of course.

Lucas Wong was an amiable man – a model to his younger brother alongside two sisters – with reasonable wealth and unthinking kindness. He was well liked by the entirety of the Huang family – though Yangyang seemed the most affectionate in his regard to the other – to a point of his constant mention. And it wasn’t that Renjun found him dull – nor did he hold unintelligent conversation; he simply found he had no heart for the boy other than one which held a similarity to the pieces he handed to his brothers. Lucas was likable and rich and solely like a sibling to him.

The gentleman smiled tersely to Renjun, offering a forearm once more for his taking, and accompanied him to the seat that remained unoccupied beside his siblings. He presented them a much warmer smile that he had provided Renjun.

“Mr. Wong, do offer Renjun to dance,” Yangyang proposed and Renjun frowned toward him.

“I am afraid in doing so I may make him miserable.” He paused his speaking. “Why not I invite you, Yangyang? It would be unjust to allow a boy such as yourself to remain without a partner upon introduction to society.” Renjun glanced over the boy’s expression as he received invitation, noting the light dusting of pink settle over his cheeks like pollen.

“As it would be unjust, I am sure, to refuse.” Renjun felt it like a punch to the gut.

The pair stood, Yangyang trailing after Lucas’ taller form, his hand reached up to adjust the cravat that sat tight over his throat, and approached the still floor. A violin strung up and the pair bowed. Renjun turned to Kun in time to receive a small frown.

The carriage bustled under Renjun as he leant back in the chair.

The sun had barely risen to cast the sky in gray and the horizon hung heavy with threat of a storm. Renjun pulled the small curtains further ajar, though he moved deeper into the center of the carriage in an effort to separate himself from any possible storm.

Tempests, though they remained seemingly frequent happenings in Wiltshire, had never failed to put Renjun on edge. The weight of clouds in the sky muffled the sound of buzzing nature and the racket of horse hooves and wooden wheels over sodden tracks rang atrociously loud through the wood. Renjun set a hand to hang limply over the curtain as he glared into the still dark forest.

The Lee’s had sent Renjun a rather nice carriage; the windows draped in black curtains decorated in delicate, pale daisies to match its simple interior. The coachman had been kind, albeit unfamiliar, and had spoken merely once to the lone traveler as Renjun had boarded in and they’d set off in the breaking dawn. He was thankful for such; Renjun found that, had he been greeted continuously with awfully kind words and bland conversation, he’d have been uncomfortable in the company of a stranger.

The travel to Bath, a distance Renjun knew to be just over ten miles, would inevitably take the entirety of a morning. It wasn’t an uncomfortable distance for a young man as himself to take alone, the four hour trip in the company of the Lee’s personal escort giving way to no need for a carriage-hop, and Renjun knew that with the rising sun he’d have a moment to bask in the foreign nature.

The boy had never left Wiltshire. He’d had his fill of wanderings over grassy expanses that glowed jade in early spring mornings and stumbles over ill-set cobblestone whilst shopping through Lacock – and he was no stranger to society. Yet, still, Renjun had never travelled through a city with quite the population that Bath held.

With the invitation of their uncles that arrived by post and the realization at Renjun’s… unacquaintedness with the men of Wiltshire (read: unpopularity) but that of one, whom Renjun refused to not refuse, came his mother’s immediate acceptance – alongside her immediate urging of his departure. There was a belief within the older woman that, if she managed to succumb her child to the etiquette of elite and grand acquaintances in the city, he would himself become a boy of high societal propriety. And thus, Renjun was hurried into a darkened carriage by light of a candle and his mother in a petticoat a mere seven nights after invitation.

The blue of the woods lightened as it crawled past, trees jumping alongside the pop of each wheel over stones, and Renjun stared between the trunks and the green of underbrush. He could swear he saw jack-o-lanterns like that of which he read floated above marshes for several hours in the night; the distant light glinting in the deep of the forest like an ominous invitation of pixies and mischievous magic.

Renjun had been one for stories and tales since he was a child, books pulled over his lap and feet curled under his chair cushion as he poured over novels and scripts his father carried home from his travels. He fancied the stories of mystical creatures he knew not to exist but craved for. As a child he’d dirtied himself in the beds of soil deep in their gardens – searches for gremlins and boggarts scraping dirt across his hem and tears across his bodice. He knew himself then to hold rather enchanting conversation with the knowledge of magic and horror and travels as the novels he’d read had instilled in him – though his mother insisted it childlike and immature.

To her, his curiosity with the make believe had always been a shame that would turn away the company of gentlefolk – it was preposterous.

Renjun supposed he didn’t want their company.

He turned his eyes from the glinting lights, studying the soft, weed-like flowers of lilac and canary that grew in the grass beside the road. He thumped the top of the small compartment, shouting a soft order of stop before the rhythm of horse hooves on the dirt began to slow to a halt. Renjun pushed open the door.

“Do excuse me a moment,” he sent the man a curt bow.

Stepping over the grass, his trousers chafing against each other as he crouched low, Renjun plucked a small bunch of weeds. The bundle of small petals and vibrant colors was soft in his palm and Renjun grinned down at them as he rose once more, venturing nearer from the ditch toward the horse-drawn carriage.

They were hopeful and smiling in his eyes – happiness to a new beginning.

✰


	2. dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> renjun's arrival in Bath

✰

The city around Renjun was hectic. The trot of the horses had slowed in regard for the passers-by that hurried between shops and through the city, dodging carriages and similarly rushed pedestrians, and Renjun watched them carefully through the window. The curtains were drawn rather tightly closed for fear that his survey be seen as strange, and he sat tucked against the frame to peer outward.

There were a few women and young men that walked with little care; their paces lax and slow as they engaged in conversation and glanced through shop windows. They pulled their caps tight over their heads and tugged their trains high over their ankles to avoid the dirt of streets. In addition, Renjun watched gentlemen, tall hats perched over their heads and pantaloons tucked carefully below socks, as they hurried through the streets. Some mounted horses that clacked over the cobblestone whilst others simply walked.

The rain had begun to fall in a drizzle, the glass of the carriage window blurred with tracks of tears from the sky and Renjun traced his finger over the streams. It was similar to condensation, beads of water like sweat on a glass as they trailed gloomily over the pane. The cobblestones glinted with slick below the coach, occasional puddles splashing to the dismay of those walking in the dribbling precipitation, and Renjun watched from the window as they hit a shining rock. The carriage jerked and Renjun’s tailcoat rumpled up his back with the jostle.

The buildings that surrounded him were each colored a light beige, joined together in a long array of windows and doors. To Renjun, they appeared grand houses, the doors a small distance from the walkway before each and the structure of the apartments beautifully elegant in comparison to the country cottages he’d lived beside. Though, they each were rather insignificant and common compared to those surrounding them. The carriage slowed to a stop before one, identical to the rest that surrounded – Renjun thought it a rather fitting place for himself.

The door swung open and a hand reached in. It was accompanied by the cool kiss of bad weather; raindrops caressed his skin as the soft breeze slanted them into the carriage. Renjun slipped his palm into the coachman’s own.

“Sixteen Paragon, Bath, sir.”

Renjun dropped from the coach, the distance of the jump sending a pang through his knees before he steadied himself. The building before him was beautiful, the mansard roof sat high above him atop the three story house, the tan walls crawling with a familiarity like withering pages of novels in their color, and Renjun dropped his head back to stare up at it.

The blonde stepped forward up the slight distance to the door, a hand held above his head in a shield from the onslaught of slow moving raindrops, and tapped a fist against the door. It swung open near immediately to reveal a man, his hair grayed and face filled with the permanent curves of age – wrinkles and dimples marring its stoic form. Renjun wasn’t sure if it made him appear intimidating or, in a sorts, friendly. He bowed deeply.

“Mr. Huang?” a nod. “Mr. Lee awaits you in the drawing room. May I take your hat?” Renjun pulled the wetted top hat from where it sat over his hair and passed it to the man’s outstretched hands. His stomach was curved with the addition of weight gained from old age, the buttons of his vest pulled tight, and Renjun grinned to him in gratitude as he lifted the article from his grasp.

The servant turned away and Renjun clapped a hand over his mouth with a suppressed snort. The man, in his stocky build and hairy sideburns, his spine curved and shortened with tiring work and tedious aging, appeared, to Renjun, with quite a similarity to a dwarf. His eyes dropped the hobble of the man’s feet and his grin brightened as he turned around, following a smaller servant, a girl with pale blonde hair similar to his own, deeper into the house as she led him to the Lee’s drawing room.

Renjun wondered if the old man had superhuman strength similar to that of his mythical counterpart – if he could still maintain his job within the house because of a dark secret he held. He released a small giggle and the girl turned to him with an arched brow.

The girl stuck her head through the door before stepping in fully, her palms folded before her back as she bowed her head curtly. “Mr. Renjun Huang, sir.” Renjun stepped in.

The drawing room was wide, though the ceiling hung low, and Renjun scanned it quickly with wandering eyes. A hearth sat against the far wall, a fire glowing softly within it to ward off the drab atmosphere of consistent rain, and the walls were decorated in teal wallpaper, couches situated throughout the room in equally striking shades. A few scattered candles were lit in combat with the lack of lighting that filled the narrowed windows, rain and clouds blocking out the earth’s light. A man stood from a navy armchair.

Doyoung was significantly older than the character he remembered of years prior; his hair – a dark shade of chestnut – was scattered with strands of gray that laced his temples where it was combed back. His eyes crinkled in a smile toward the boy that stood beside the newly shut doorway, the room settling into quietude with the creak and thud of the door falling closed. The fireplace crackled alongside the serenade of rain.

“I quite think I have never seen such a handsome boy in my life,” Doyoung greeted with a bright grin, his voice muddled with laughter. Renjun rolled his eyes.

“Have you lost your vision so sudden, Uncle? Just weeks ago you wrote of your remarkable health.”

“Do you truly wish I alter such a statement?” Doyoung cocked an eyebrow, settling onto the chair behind his knees and gesticulating with a hand toward the one opposite him. Renjun started forward, his feet tapping over the floor with a click, and settled onto the cushion.

“No, I suppose I do not. Though, I must alter mine - just weeks ago you wrote of your remarkable health _to Kun_.”

“I am sure I addressed you in the letter as well.”

“I am quite certain you did not until you sent invitation to me.”

Doyoung cleared his throat. “And your travels?”

Renjun hummed, smiling softly, “It was a mild morning – not shockingly cold at all.”

“Oh, upon my word, I do wish we had chosen a finer day.” Doyoung startled Renjun with his outburst. “The rain must have been dreadful – you must have found it quite dirty and dreadful to walk through. Oh, how I had wished you would find delay – to wait out the rain, I thought, how preferable. I feared you catch cold in the wet.”

“No, I found it all tolerably well,” Renjun countered, taken aback with Doyoung’s negligence toward his prior statement of comfortability in his travels. “By the bye – I have not asked after you. I trust you are well?”

“No, indeed, Bath has treated us well. To look after Mr. Lee – it does not require extreme exertion.” Renjun suppressed a grin in thought toward the surplus of servants that helped the man ‘look after’ his husband. “I am quite happy – quite contented. Oh, I do wish Mr. Lee would learn a more gentle manner. He has learned to be quite a bother.”

Renjun nodded, slowly. “Though, I trust he has not become a disagreeable man?”

“No, not a disagreeable man – I simply must never flatter him. He is quite a bother.”

“So I gather,” Renjun beamed politely and turned to the window, watching the rain bead down the pane and shifting uncomfortably on the sofa cushion as Doyoung continued to speak.

Renjun had never been fond of the rain.

It was once the rain ended, the sky having resolved into a drab slat of depressed gray and blue, that Doyoung determined the pair should step from the door of the apartment.

The ground was wet, puddles having settled into the crevices of the cobblestone roads, as they walked through the busy streets. An occasional dodging of deeper and wider puddles led to the bump of an elbow or the intermingling of skirts that would settle in the simplicity of a curt bow and hurried walk away.

It was cool, the spring afternoon burning a chill over his bare arms, and Renjun wished for the spencer jacket he’d stowed away in the chest left within his room. He gazed up the streets, watching others as they stepped over thresholds and into stores, doors jangling as they slipped shut only to be pulled open in accompaniment of another. They passed a window that held bonnets and ribbon, a few women and men standing within the glass to gaze upon the fabrics.

It seemed that, with the drawing away of bad weather, many people had stepped from their homes in pursuit of entertainment. Renjun couldn’t blame them; if anything, he agreed with their search for amusement within the streets of the city and shops of the street. Having been cooped up with Doyoung’s complaints toward his husband the entirety of the morning, Renjun had found that the option of leaving to bask in the open air of Bath, well away from the confines of Doyoung’s words, had felt heaven sent. Here, he could pretend that the chatter outdid Doyoung’s voice.

And that was exactly what he had been doing.

The drone of his uncle’s voice, pitched high as he stretched to overpower the racket of people around them, had begun to fade into a familiar background as Renjun continued to accompany his leisurely pace. He recognized what he spoke of _(Taeyong simply_ does not _understand whist – how I wish you to be more clever than he_ ), but simply chose to ignore it in favor of the populace around him.

Women and men, in frocks of brilliant color (Kun would be glad to say none held similarity to bed sheets), bustled past the pair. Some exchanged grins amongst each other and held lowered conversations alongside lowered heads, mischievous laughs resounding as they peered to others behind them and rushed forward. And, on the contrary, there were others who glanced toward those around them with cheeks tickled pink and faces filled with appalment, hurrying up the streets with embarrassment toward their being watched and admired.

There were others dressed in slim waistcoats that walked with ease, grinning eyes glancing over others or simply remaining captivated by the conversations held between their acquaintances. Some who could not be bothered with the beauteous company of those surroundings and those who could not ignore it.

Renjun thought his mother may have been horrified – she’d have thought the outright display of attraction horrifyingly improper. And she may have taken it upon herself to draw Renjun home near immediately (alongside a brash and impolite letter to her brother).

Renjun found that, for such a reason, he enjoyed it more so than he’d thought possible.

Renjun startled slightly as Doyoung tugged him from his thoughts, a hand on the waist of his skirts and pulling him to a halt. The man was grinning to another pair.

“Do pardon my intrusion, Mr. Seo, but I find I cannot simply ignore it; your son is of the same age as Mr. Huang – I fear I long to introduce him.”

The man Doyoung had hurried toward – Mr. Seo, Renjun supposed – was a man of great height. His waistcoat fit to a degree that was quite exquisite (in fact, it was such a well-fitted coat Renjun wondered over the cost to make one of such length), the dark shade of maroon contrasting drastically with the yellow dress of the boy that stood beside him, and Renjun found he had to tilt his head slightly to gaze over the man’s rather extreme height. He appeared all sharp edges and clean lines, his collar crisp where it caressed his cheek.

The boy beside him, however, seemed the opposite. The bright shade of his yellow dress contrasted against the boy’s golden skin (Renjun was unsure how he appeared so tanned when only the smallest peak of spring had begun to show itself) and he thought the boy looked near alluring. He was soft and Renjun noted his prominent top lip, the feature striking and plump. He was a canary in soft curves and regal posture. And he was staring right back at Mark.

 _Donghyuck Lee_ , he was introduced as, _eighteen_. And Renjun – _my nephew, twenty_. And with such an exchange, the boy, Donghyuck, had whisked him away with a hand on his elbow, the soft nudge of his thigh, and a brief dismissal from the two elders.

As they walked, the younger boy eventually nudging him into the threshold of a bonnet and cap store, Renjun studied Donghyuck. He looked like that of a fairy from the Seelie Court; the summery shade of his skin that intermingled with the brightness of spring in the threads of his dress seemed like the creation of magic and the beauty of fae. And if his smirk had anything to say for it, then Renjun was not mistaken – the boy held the mischief of a fairy as well.

“Bath is a charming place,” Renjun began, running a finger of a spool of thread. Donghyuck looked toward him.

“How long is your stay?”

“I am quite unsure – mother says until I learn propriety.”

“Well you shan’t learn such here.”

“I am quite of your opinion,” Renjun agreed, stepping away from the sewing kits and needles propped beside the window and continued deeper into the store, running a hand over the bonnets that sat on display in the center of the room. He turned to face the younger boy once more, finding him placing a shawl over the expanse of his bare neck. “Mother would find many an impolite person here.”

“It is more of a city that where you’ve come, I trust?”

“I’ve arrived from Wiltshire this morning.”

“Well, even so, your mother need not know. I find the men here rather entertaining – quite a few have far too much wealth to not try and wring out. Father and I have been here a while. There is a certain Mr. Lee that I do fancy I may find a liking too – he’s quite a rich gentleman, and one of the few here your mother may have found approval in.” Renjun slanted an eye to where Donghyuck cruised around the room, sliding fingers over fabrics that sent them swaying in ripples like the surface of ponds. “I do believe a fortnight has passed of his being here – he has quite the talent in dancing I think I would remember him had he been any earlier.” He stopped momentarily, twisting hastily around to face Renjun. He felt the heat of his stare from across the room. “Shall you attend the ball tonight?”

“If Doyoung pleases.”

“If Doyoung pleases?” he mocked, “Well, I believe he shall were you to. You must – simply must – I would much like to show you Mr. Lee, perhaps you will meet others. It is decided.”

Renjun nodded, his eyes wide as he continued through the room. He slipped a hat over his head, the straw tickled against his cheek as he tied the ribbon below it. Donghyuck slipped into his vision, standing before him. “And you altogether are quite pleased with Bath?”

“Yes – from what I have seen of it, I like it very well.”

“Have you been to the pump-room – the Upper Rooms?”

“No, I have merely been here. My uncle and I set out with the rain’s end.”

“Pray, Renjun,” Donghyuck twisted around, his head angled to glance over the skirts of his dress as he spun on his feet, “what do you think of my dress? Father said it was vastly too bright.” Renjun hesitated, momentarily taken aback with the swiftness of the boy’s topic change.

“I think it splendid – quite eye-catching for… Mr. Lee, you said?”

“Indeed… indeed, Mr. Lee.” Renjun startled as Donghyuck snapped his head up. “Though, I’m sure I need not use my clothing to attract the gentleman. And I do suppose I am allowed to entertain the thought of others.”

Renjun lifted his eyebrows, nodding in response to the boy. “I suppose not.”

“Oh, how I do long to see you in your gown this evening – do you have any idea what you are to wear?” Donghyuck sidestepped a stool and continued toward the window, resting his hands on the mantle as he leaned closer to glance onto the streets. Renjun watched the manner with which Donghyuck tilted his head just slightly, the soft flick of his eyelashes as he stared to the distance, and Renjun wondered if maybe (albeit unknowingly) Donghyuck had the exact fashionable air his mother had wanted for himself to learn – if everyone in Bath held themselves with such a manner of respectability (despite their unabashed flirtations).

“I am certain I have a nice-looking frock.”

“A _nice-looking_ frock? Why, dearest Renjun, a nice-looking gown has not aided in a proposal to anyone – I would much rather you look quite disagreeable than _nice-looking_. Come, I shall make you an exquisite boy – dare I say the prettiest,” he paused a moment, “other than me, of course.” Donghyuck pulled Renjun back over the threshold.

A droplet of water splattered across the bare skin of Renjun’s arm from where it dripped over the doorway.

Renjun did appear quite exquisite. His dress was a pale shade of pink – it held a likeness to the sky as the pair ascended the steps to the upper assembly rooms – that managed to shimmer a silvery shine under the glowing light of the setting sun, the first breaths of dusk seizing the blue of the horizon. Translucent flowers climbed the dress in white – the texture holding a similarity to a bride’s veil – painting it with an element of daintiness. Renjun ran a hand over the rough texture.

Donghyuck grinned to Renjun and pushed the door open, the lilting dance of a bow on string flitting from the now ajar entry way, and Renjun glanced back to Doyoung.

He cringed at the deafening roar of chatter as they stepped further into the room, the violin growing louder in accompaniment of others as they neared the center of the assembly room. Heels of men and women alike clacked loudly over the hard floor with the performance of a minuet, skirts swishing with the slow pulse of music.

True to his word, Donghyuck had focused more of his efforts on himself, not that any more time spent focused over the elder could have helped him to surpass the charming beauty Donghyuck held. Renjun noted he had a similarity to Kun in his air; the softness of his features alongside the natural gold and rouge of his skin were enthralling in an indescribable way that Renjun was sure could leave men reeling no matter his dress.

And he was seeing the effects then.

Donghyuck wore an orange dress (much more similar to the shade of a pumpkin than that of a peach, a fact Renjun thought would be rather off-putting) – a color Renjun had never seen over fabric until then – and the tone seemed to shroud his golden glow instead in bronze. The orange fabric (maybe he should call it carroty?) caressed Donghyuck’s skin until they seemed to meld together as oil paints – beautifully and exactly as they should, as if the dress were made for him, and he the dress.

As they stepped past those dancing, their shoulders slanted to squeeze through the densely populated area, Renjun watched various eyes track Donghyuck. He skid his eyes over the room, catching gazes pointed toward the boy until various men would push off the walls they resided against or the company that sat beside and inch nearer the shining boy. Donghyuck’s eyes were only settled over one figure.

“Mr. Minhyung Lee,” Donghyuck tilted his head in the direction of a group of four men, each clad in waistcoats (all the shade of a bluish-grey, meant to draw attention to their figure, but one) and Renjun studied them alongside the boy. His eyes caught continuously over the oddity of the gentlemen, the jade of his tailcoat peculiar in comparison of his company’s. The candlelight that flickered over the fabric painted it in a warm glow, the bright shade darkening to an army green.

“And his company?”

Donghyuck hummed, his eyes still trailing over the black haired man as he spoke, “Wealthy gentlemen, I trust. The one just to Mr. Lee’s right I recognize as a Mr. Na – a landowner. He is set to inherit Finwell Abbey in Devonshire. It is my understanding he has taken quite a liking to my younger brother.”

Renjun nodded, “Indeed?”

“Upon my word, I believe so. Pray, does he appear to be looking over here?”

Renjun checked, throwing his chin over his shoulder to properly view the gentleman. He met eyes with the wrong one. “For heaven’s sake, Donghyuck, I do say you will cause me quite embarrassment for making me look – I have been caught. Though, it would be doing quite an injustice to such a dress were he not looking.”

“I am obliged to agree that yours should be doing the same. Dare I ask whose gaze you met?”

“The gentleman in green.”

“I am unsure of his title – though I have seen him often. Quite a grave man if you ask me. Where others may seem amiable he appears rather severe. Pray, he must be looking now.” Renjun slanted an eye back once more, tilting his chin down in an effort to shield his gaze. Minhyung was looking – and as was the gentleman in green. “Yes, I am sure now. Never mind that; I do believe the man beside him is kin. They share the same apartment on Pulteney Street, you see. He is called Mr. Yuta Nakamoto – of Gremberton, perhaps?”

Renjun hummed, “Undoubtedly.”

“That they are kin?”

“No, that he is staring. In fact, that he approaches now,” Renjun grinned to Donghyuck as the boy startled, slanting an eye over Renjun’s shoulder to the approaching man. His eyes widened comically before he schooled his expression to something Renjun pegged as rather coy.

“Pardon me, but may I ask for your hand in a dance?”

Donghyuck’s face morphed with surprise (Renjun was quite certain he’d forced it into such, and instead it should’ve been one of endearment) and he lifted a gentle hand to the exposed skin of his upper chest.

“How positively improper – we have not been introduced, you are too hasty.”

Minhyung’s face transformed greatly with the grin that overtook him, a sprinkling of red fluttering across his face with the subtlety of a brush of powdered sugar, and he nodded, stepping back and turning to send a curt bow to Renjun. He approached the smaller boy with his mouth tilted toward the boy’s ear in an act of whispering.

“Do mind my indecency and honor me with an introduction of your company. I am Minhyung Lee.”

With a soft chuckle, Renjun pulled back and gestured vaguely toward Donghyuck as he faced him head on. “Do allow me to introduce you to my dearest friend, Mr. Donghyuck Lee. This is Mr. Minhyung Lee.”

“Enchanting, Mr. Lee,” Minhyung reached for Donghyuck’s hand and lifted it gently to his lips in a slow press. Renjun’s eyes widened toward the act as a light giggle escaped the boy in orange’s mouth. Donghyuck pulled his hand away and nodded.

“Likewise.”

“Had not you better release me from your clutches or allow me to have the next dance?”

“You vex me with your words, sir – I am no enchantress.”

Renjun swallowed before stepping away, glancing behind him in search of his uncle. He listened toward the pair behind him, their words flirtatious and promiscuous to an extent that made him feel an intruder to a moment of intimacy, and pushed further away in an effort to escape their exchange. His dress caught under a heel and he tugged it slightly, holding the train up as he passed through the crowd. It was uncomfortable, to Renjun – to be alone at such an occasion – and he gazed with eyes round into the crowd in search. He spotted a flash of Doyoung’s black waistcoat and started forward.

Renjun was in no way a graceless nor careless creature. He had always moved with an ease and held himself with a confidence that accompanied the most accomplished of beings and most certain of souls. Renjun was small and agile and had never been clumsy enough to stumble.

So when Renjun did, it came with quite a shock.

The speed of Renjun’s feet below him in pursuit of his uncle were of no cause to the sudden unbalance that overtook him (Renjun had prided himself in the country on his ability to run over logs with an effortless stability). It was the sudden movement of a body before him – the sudden entering of a gentleman in his path – and the catching of his toe on another’s that caused the slip of his ankle and the buckle of his knees until he crumpled slightly, his hands bracing for an impact. Instead, he caught himself on the sleeve of a jacket.

Renjun glanced upward.

The jade green of a gentleman’s waistcoat greeted him, slightly disarray and bunched around his death tight grip. Renjun dropped it with wide eyes. A pair of brown eyes glanced back similarly so, surprise evident in their gaze as Renjun stepped back hastily.

“I apologize – how rude of me,” Renjun bowed slightly and scampered off to no reply. Doyoung glanced over Renjun as he returned with a slightly heaving chest.

“I do not believe I have spoken to you the entirety of the night and here you are breathing heavily into my ear – pray, tell me why you breathe so.” Renjun’s cheeks colored (though he was quite certain the exertion of fleeing from the tall man had painted them redder already).

“Who is the fine gentleman in the green coat, sir?”

“What is on your mind, Dear?”

“Never mind my mind.”

“I do believe that the _fine gentleman_ , as you say, is a Mr. Jeno Lee of Reverton in Dorset Shire. Don’t be insensible to my curiosity and instead tell why should you wonder?”

Renjun glanced back toward the man, his eyes clashing with a pair of dark eyes that seemed to have remained trained over him in his hurried departure. He scanned the gentleman’s mousy brown hair with a terse swallow, wishing that maybe he could be slightly less handsome or (if Donghyuck’s words rang true) slightly more amiable.

“I believe he tripped me.”

✰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is alternatively titled "my grammar sucks and donghyuck's a flirt" (i don't think i edited this very well o_0)
> 
> so, added the stereotypical fall but... i twisted it up a bit (insert guilty smile).
> 
> if you're noticing that this is an awful lot like northanger abbey that's because i just reread it, it will probably morph a little into emma and pride and prejudice territory as i reread those for inspiration as well. (oops i'm incapable of creating my own plots).
> 
> love ya,  
> emily <3


	3. dancing shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> donghyuck is truly something

✰

The days passed rather unspectacularly in Bath. Renjun knew near no one, his mornings were spent enjoying breakfast beside Doyoung and Taeyong in the dining room and accompanying Donghyuck to the pump-room, before his evenings were spent attending the theater and laying alone in his room.

It was in those moments, the candles snuffed out until one remained to bask only a few feet in yellow, that Renjun was truly alone to his thoughts. Sure, the lack of company he held in Bath was great, but Renjun found that he had never been unaccompanied for any moment of any day since he’d arrived. In a way, he was grateful for the constant occupation of his thoughts.

When Renjun sat in the dim of night, the walls of his chambers creaking with the moan of the house, he found his heart began to ache in accompaniment with the building’s groans. He was reminded from the darkness of the face of his brothers, the shadows of the room dissolving from the flickering of candlelight to three forms swirling in tantalizing dances. On occasion Renjun would reach to them; his fingers sprawled widely in touch of the open air, a need to hold any reminder of the boys unfurling in his gut until he had to clench his eyes shut against the pain.

Longing for another’s company seemed to be the worst pain.

The shadow people would dance before Renjun’s eyes as he grew tired. He would fall back onto the sheets, his legs flung carelessly over the large mattress and his eyes growing undeniably heavy. He’d be pulled below consciousness alongside figures swaying on the backs of his eyelids and twirling into his sleep. And the dancing figures would dissolve into the slow slither of his dreams.

A brown snake crawling across a field. The shimmering reflection of a lake. A splash resounding from the surface of the water like the breaking of a wave. A strange sense of familiarity, like this was something Renjun should recognize. A smile and a hand with a ring of jade.

Renjun would forget when he woke.

The room around Renjun was warm, heat from the pools below and the crowds of people enrapturing him in steam, and he swallowed heavily as he continued to step beside Donghyuck. Beige tiles were laid across the floor and they clacked noisily beneath his heels.

“It is in poor taste – to bathe in the springs each morning.” Renjun turned to face his friend.

Donghyuck’s chin was tilted upward, his eyes scanning across the yellowing floor down the slope of his nose. Renjun tilted his head to the side as he gazed upward to the boy in curiosity. In the week – near fortnight – that Renjun had known the boy, he had found Donghyuck to be a rather enigmatic character. The younger boy’s mind consisted of gentlemen, wealth, society, fashion, and…well, gentlemen. And while Renjun had on occasion engaged in conversation with the young boy on his opinions of novels or the theater, he had near immediately dismissed such as tedious conversational topics devoted to fictional happenings.

Donghyuck liked to gossip and Donghyuck liked to flatter. Though, more often than not, Donghyuck liked to flatter _himself_.

And in no way was it an inflection on his character, Renjun held the boy to an utmost respect, he was simply an eccentric character with no need for niceties. He was brash but he meant well.

Renjun had on occasion bared witness to Donghyuck’s charitable traits and he found that perhaps that with which Donghyuck was impetuous furthered his ability to be altruistic. The harsh honesty (and, in some ways, what Renjun deemed ‘judgement’) had become synonymous with the kindness he’d bestowed upon his friend – the clothes, the advice, and the constant company – because they all were meant to benefit even whilst offending.

“And why do you suppose that?”

“One may come to assume you have no access to bathing elsewhere.”

“What is to suggest that?”

Donghyuck hummed, lifting a hand to vaguely gesture the hot springs they turned around, walking the room in continuous circles. “Take Ms. Winslowe for example: from the very beginning – may I suggest the very first morning of her stay – she has attended the baths. She arrives, bathes, and turns to the Upper Rooms before she returns home. Can it not be assumed that she has no place elsewhere to bathe – due to her spending so much time in the waters here?”

“I must say you take quite an eager interest in the lives of others, dear Donghyuck.”

“When such suffer the misfortunes as Ms. Winslowe I simply must bestow my notice.” Renjun snorted as the boy folded his hands together with a certain innocence.

“She – just as all others – does not dip below the water. Were she not to bathe away, how would she maintain such cleanly hair?” Renjun continued, nodding his head in a gesticulation to where the young woman floated in the warm water, a drink bobbing on the platter that sat on the water’s surface. “And, indeed, I do not see her handling soap – do you?”

Donghyuck murmured in agreement as they continued their slow pace about the room. “No, I do not suppose she does. I merely wish to improve her reputation.”

The pair fell into silence, their pursuit of every inch of the room continuing to the tumult of their thoughts. There were people, unfamiliar and not, that flowed around the pair. They offered small grins and slight bows of heads before they’d continue on and Donghyuck would whisper of their significance.

They were insignificant exchanges, coupled by insignificant words from Donghyuck, but they ebbed a sense of comfort into Renjun’s restless mind. Had he been left to his own devices, Renjun found he would know no one – he’d be pushed to the side of crowded rooms (or he’d not know better than to bathe each morning in the springs) and he’d hold no company. Alongside Donghyuck, Renjun held a certain importance and he held a branch of introduction with others.

Donghyuck filled Renjun with a knowledge of who knew what and who made what, he knew names and he held a capability of conversation. He was no longer hopeless nor was he lonely. He held no reliance solely on his uncles. Renjun found he could be self-reliant and knowledgeable were Donghyuck to no longer accompany his side – he wouldn’t be a burden on his family or a being of impropriety. And for that he was ever grateful he’d made such an acquaintance.

While Renjun still missed his family – still had restless nights of dreams that hurt his mind to recall – he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, but Renjun!” he jumped with Donghyuck’s outburst. “How I do wish very much to help Ms. Winslowe! I must confess that I see she is a very pretty girl, indeed. It is quite ridiculous she has not been properly groomed for society – she could be so well sought after. Her nose has always held such a brilliance to me – it certainly has a splendid curve. Why, it has a similarity quite like yours! Oh, I long for a nose with such similarity to yours,” Donghyuck released a heavy sigh, his eyes tracked to the dead center of Renjun’s face.

“I thank you, Donghyuck, though you must regain yourself – you are quite incomparable to me.”

“Very certain, I am sure, but I simply must express how I wish her to be more knowledgeable in what is right. She does her handsomeness an offense.”

“I am afraid you cannot control her.” Renjun tracked his eyes over the room, watching the slow descent of men and women alike into the wide expanse of water in the center of the room. “Only you are truly impressionable to the desire of your mind.”

“Do you suggest my work with you is insignificant?”

“Certainly.” The pair exchanged soft laughter, gloved hands covering their beaming grins.

“In such regard, I simply must apologize for my leaving you that while ago. I am afraid that, if I am to worry solely over myself and my own marrying, I am quite fretful over my relationship with Mr. Lee.” Donghyuck stopped abruptly, twisting himself around to grapple with Renjun’s palms. “Do tell me you saw our exchange – our dance – I feel that it was quite magical in every sense of the word.”

“I am afraid not. I was… preoccupied…” Renjun trailed off, tracing his eyes over the entrance to the baths. Donghyuck grunted and shifted his gaze to focus on Renjun’s distant gaze.

“Preoccupied? No matter – I remember it all quite well. He truly is the most amiable man, Mr. Lee. And how he approached as though spell-ridden; I do believe that is the most flattering. Accusing me of being an enchantress! He truly has every ounce of charm one could carry – without becoming disagreeable that is.”

Renjun nodded, watching the expression of Donghyuck’s face twist to pleasure, a soft blush coating the apples of his cheeks as he shied away into his memories. “Truly.”

“And his dance – he is quite accomplished! I truly felt I was floating, he much outdid the other gentlemen that have accompanied me in dance.”

“I am sure. And did he suggest he would like to see you again?”

Donghyuck’s grin widened and he turned hastily to face Renjun, his steps faltering before he started forward once more. “I do believe he did – though in the most coy regard, quite unlike a gentleman may and I do believe that makes it all the more splendid. He suggested I look for him in his box at the theater – oh, Renjun, I did forget to mention the theater to you! We must attend the theater together, I may introduce you!"

“You may introduce me to Mr. Lee? Had it not been I who introduced you?” Renjun grinned to the soft giggled that escaped the taller.

“Well, you are quite right. I dare say he does not recall a name of yours though.”

“I do not believe he inquired, no.” Renjun stopped, turning toward the door beside them. “Shall we continue to the streets?”

The pair bounded carefully down the steps of the building, glancing over the pathway before turning to the left (a direction they knew to be not towards their apartments, but instead the shop corners) and continuing down the heavily trafficked walkways.

The morning was still new, the air cool (though warmer still than it had been just the day before with the heightening of spring) with a strange wet that clung to it as though littered with fog. The sun was about an hour’s away from height, the temperature warming rapidly, and Renjun found it most beneficial to bask in the cooler air whilst he still could.

Summer in Bath brought on temperatures much like that of the country in Wiltshire, but Doyoung had written that it was to be assumed the open country air seemed cooler than the densely populated Bath would provide. Renjun sighed, the morning breeze hitting his nose with the intake that followed.

“We shall attend the theater then?”

Renjun startled slightly, slanting his gaze to the boy on his right. Donghyuck’s head was tilted back slightly, his eyes closed as he basked in the refreshing weather beside Renjun’s own form.

“I cannot see why I should oppose.”

“Then do not – we shall attend this evening and I shall introduce you to Mr. Lee. Perhaps you may find the company of Mr. Nakamoto to be sufficient, very sufficient, company.”

Renjun sniggered, “Whilst I may, I must implement my doubt that he would find me as such.”

“Oh, you humble yourself, dearest Renjun.” Donghyuck stopped before a storefront, peering into the window toward the fabrics inside. He turned to Renjun with a sly smile before nodding his head toward the glass, gesturing for the elder to glance into the store.

Beside a collection of fabrics stood the Mr. Minhyung Lee, turned away from where the pair ogled his back (Renjun must be honest in saying, in the most impolite and improper regard, there was much to ogle) and speaking animatedly to another. Renjun recognized the man, despite the drab color of his waistcoat, as who had worn the jade jacket just ten nights prior.

It came as a surprise to Renjun that he had been yet to encounter either man again since the ball, the preoccupation of his thoughts and Donghyuck’s words (usually about just the man he then gazed after) distracting him from ever noticing the passing of such company. Donghyuck stepped back from the window and Renjun followed.

“Is it not impolite to ignore Mr. Lee had we stumbled into just the store he occupied?” Donghyuck lowered his eyelids mischievously and Renjun rolled his own.

“I suppose you suggest we shall enter?”

“Suggest? Why, we are possessed to.”

The pair entered the small shop; a woman clad in a bonnet glancing up to spare them a smile from where she sorted through top hats. She adjusted the navy one that perched over her head as her chin turned back downward, her trousers ruffling as she walked managed her shop. Renjun turned to see Donghyuck coyly slanting an eye to Minhyung. He creeped closer to the pair.

The man beside Donghyuck’s attention (was lover more or less appropriate?) was tall, vastly taller than Renjun himself, something he hadn’t noticed in their miniscule exchange of foot and toe, trip and catch. And Renjun couldn’t help but find him admirable.

Similarly to the expression he’d held in their first encounter (had they encountered? Nay they’d collided) the gentleman seemed supercilious. His face was drawn in – no hint of a smile seemed to have ever graced such features, as though the muscles to do so didn’t exist (which also didn’t remove the possibility that he couldn’t frown, as such an unpleasant action hadn’t been encountered either) – and he appeared merely apathetic to that which surrounded him.

However, Renjun found he couldn’t dismiss the thought that the man wasn’t contemptuous towards – well… everything. He just seemed withdrawn (shy was too feminine and gentle a word for the sharpness of his features).

Donghyuck inched further along the store, nearing the pair that huddled in a corner and mulled over tailcoats. Renjun followed – avoiding staring straight toward the men but fearing they be engaged in a conversation not for disruption. Donghyuck heeded no care to such.

Mr. Jade (Now Gray) Waistcoat was quite an exquisite looking man, Renjun thought a definite equal to Donghyuck if not one that surpassed in the complete opposite way. His skin was pale in a way that didn’t appear like that of moonlight but rather ice. The pinks of his cheeks like rowan berries scattered with snow. Renjun found, in spite of himself, that he wished for a smile to stain those features redder.

Renjun snapped his eyes away as he glanced in his direction. Donghyuck was insufferable.

Seeing that he’d caught the pair's attention, Donghyuck pulled the hem of his dress below a toe and rushed to place a step, toppling from head to toe until his body was no longer that but toe to head and landing just at Minhyung Lee’s feet. He grabbed to perfect shoes there (not a scuff mark or stain on them) as if in plea or bow (or something much more inappropriate that evoked a painful cringe from the elder) and lay there.

“Donghyuck?” Renjun spoke, shooting pleading and apologetic eyes to the gentlemen that stared expectantly to him.

“Renjun, do not speak my name – I shall cry being exposed having done such an unflattering, most embarrassing act.”

Minhyung replied, a soft smile gracing his lips, “Why, I do believe it may be a bit too late to deny your being Mr. Lee. Though, Mr. Lee, you cannot shame yourself for a small act you cannot control such as tripping.” Minhyung’s voice was filled with a fond amusement and Renjun startled momentarily. To be amused and find such a display of whine (and, to Renjun, utter shamelessness) endearing and even, in a sort, attractive was astonishing to him. And the expression on Minhyung’s acquaintance’s face seemed to agree.

Perhaps Donghyuck and Minhyung were made to be.

“It was utterly graceless – how off putting I must seem.” Minhyung helped Donghyuck to rise from his crouched position.

“Quite the contrary, you are all the more exquisite for having a flaw of sorts – I feel I may approach you now.” The man beside him lifted a brow as Donghyuck released a loud laugh.

“Thank you, truly.”

Renjun snuck a peek toward the man once more. Minhyung noticed.

“My sincere apologies – this is Mr. Jeno Lee. Jeno this is… well, I don’t believe I ever inquired after your name, had I?” Donghyuck slanted his gaze toward Renjun and it felt oddly like a warning (of what he should be warned against he was unsure – it felt rather hypocritical following such an act as the younger had displayed).

“I am afraid not, Mr. Lee. It is Renjun Huang,” he inclined his head in a nicety.

“There are much too many Mr. Lees, Mr. Lee,” Donghyuck bemoaned, his lips tugging lower into a playful pout that was rather obscene and catching to the eye. It certainly didn’t pass by Minhyung’s radar – Renjun could feel the burn of his stare as though it were against his own mouth and not his friend’s. How improper!

Renjun had half the mind to warn Donghyuck against such indisputable actions of tease; had Donghyuck thought himself coy he was drastically mistaken. The malintent of his pucker and the slight drooping of his eyelids were unabashedly clear to be laced with sexual undertones and Minhyung had _gotten the message!_ The pair were in a dance of eye-footsie (if that were a thing you can imagine how it would go: their eyes clashed and flickered with hidden messages – not actually so hidden, Renjun felt the need to repeat – just as two stocking clad feet would scale another’s legs beneath a table in a tantalizing exchange of flirtations and hypothesized sex) and Renjun found he was quite appalled.

The boy cleared his throat, secretly glancing at the other Mr. Lee – it was improper to refer to him as Jeno, he thought, even in the seclusion of his mind. Maybe it was improper to refer to him as such _especially_ in the seclusion of his mind for the thought of such a familiar term sent an odd tremor to rack his hands uncontrollably. Mr. Jeno Lee responded with an equally hidden gaze and, with the clashing of their eyes as they’d mutually wished to have been kept hidden and mutually failed, Renjun snorted.

Donghyuck glanced toward him in response to the snort, the expressions that laced his face dissipating rapidly and he tilted his head in inquiry. “Do tell why you laugh so.”

“Oh, I cannot – my ponderings shall be taken as improper.”

Donghyuck balked. “How can you proclaim such then? If you believe it improper then you shall simply fib to save face!” his exclamation was full of shock and Renjun cocked a brow at his admission to dishonesty.

“But I am not the most improper here, so why should I be ashamed that my musings are not to be shared with a pair of gentlemen.”

“Do share who you claim the most improper is,” Donghyuck was testing him.

The corners of Renjun’s lips tilted and he felt a sneaky grin bloom onto his face. He turned to the gentleman in gray that stood beside him, glancing upward and clashing eyes with him as though sharing an inside joke. Maybe he was just as shameful and it appeared he’d played a similar game of eye-footsie, though he was unsure of how his gaze could be taken by the couple that watched the exchange. “Then I would be sharing my improper thoughts.”

He swore Jeno’s lips pulled with a smile slightly.

✰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a very big reader notice
> 
> this fic is going to have updates that are few and far between as well as less cleanly edited, so i apologize in advance. i already have them all planned out, i believe there are 12 (? don't hold me to that ?) chapters but i'm going back to school and i've been distracted reading a bunch so my writing is falling behind.
> 
> which leads me to my next thing: i've been reading books and watching shows a /lot/. i read mo dao zu shi (the grandmaster of demonic cultivation) in three days and watched all of the untamed in four, so i haven't been writing a bunch. i'm in the middle of heaven official's blessing as of current (readddd it, this author is /so. good./ and will also be reading the manhuas to both after so... my hypothetical schedule is full before my jam-packed high school schedule starts up again.
> 
> which leads me to my final point: i'm feeling dejected writing wise. every author gets those 'i'm not good enough' feels and they're biting me in the rear-end as of current, so i'm not forcing writing to come - i'm only doing it when i really feel up to it. i also have fantasy ideas because of the novels i've been reading (which is distracting) and i'm wishing i could write storylines as entrancing as MXTX does. So... that's also not helpful to my 'flow' (i'm also 16 (i hope you guys aren't weirded out that i'm a minor ?? would you be? iDk) so... i can't expect to be her level even if she's rumored to be college age hA).
> 
> but yes, i love y'all and i will do my best to finish this without being extremely inactive at times ! i may also write two stories at the same time (this and something fantasy-like) so i can get all my vibes out.


	4. angels and gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skinned knees aren't good!

✰

The letter arrived on a dreary and cold morning, addressed to a Mr. Renjun Huang, and stamped in a blood red ink that devolved into smeared curlicues no doubt at the hand of his youngest brother. Running a hand along the thick parchment left a rasping sound Renjun had seldom heard, letters addressed to the boy scarce less they be sent by a Mr. Dejun Xiao (whose papers at home were of a softer sort), and he was quick to tear the tough material open.

There, in the soft swirls but rigid perfection of his eldest brother’s calligraphy, sat a note from home.

_Dearest Renjun,_

_I write to you, not out of an obligation to keep informed, but in a selfish desire to spill my earnest thoughts unto your own. Chenle accompanies myself as well (I do believe he’s under the impression I’ve stolen from him a lover)._

_You’re greatly missed at home; the Peneltens had not been informed of your leaving and stopped by with an intention of bringing you into town. Young Elizabeth had been heedlessly begging for the company, though I do believe it was truly Mrs. Penelten’s want for your ear (you entertain her gossip far too much), and it was quite disastrous an explanation to uphold. For a young child to have so much vigor in her tears, I fear she must be related to Chenle._

There was a splatter of ink beside his sibling’s name and Renjun giggled with the thought of his brother receiving a shove at the poke,

_Alas, I cannot leave my thoughts for another moment. Dearest Renjun, a man has arrived in Wiltshire and further arrived into my acquaintance. I fear I have want of the most selfish of relations and the most pure of loves when I am beside him. And I fear, perhaps a better word is I hope, though I cannot imagine it just for me to feel so much for him and so little for others, my wants may be returned._

_He is wealthy, that much may be assured and may put your mind at ease if you fear my living in comfort, but I find more so that that wealth devolves into all other things. He is kind (so much so that he has stolen Chenle’s heart with my own), and he is of the forgiving sort. And, Renjun, if we were to measure our men in dance, I do believe he’d surpass your own self._

_I did not wish to steal your mind with thoughts of my own love and worries of my own health – I wish much more so to inquire after yours – but my heart is steeled against modesty and secrecy in regard to the emotions I feel toward this man. I am adrift in a swirl of emotions and bliss, and I wish solely for the accompaniment of my brother’s support._

_I wish you well, and I long to see you._

_Kun._

Renjun set aside the letter with a shuddering breath. His stomach seemed to curl with a painful sickness as his shoulders slumped forward and he brought the letter closer to his eyes. The words that sprawled across the crisp sheet were undoubtedly his brother’s, curled with an intricate attention to beauty, but he noticed then that the letters seemed to wobble and trail awkwardly at the end, as though written with an unsteady hand of nerves and blissful joy.

He had missed far too much and _missed_ far too little.

Renjun had spent the majority of his days away from the homesickness that should’ve overtaken him and swept up instead in the whirlwind that was Donghyuck’s thoughts and Donghyuck’s gossip. And maybe a little too much musing on the potential complexities that would be Mr. Lee’s thoughts and Mr. Lee’s opinions (it seemed gossip may be far off his spectrum of conversation). And he’d spent the majority of his nights working to forget the pain and shadows that swirled within the loneliness of his heart and mind.

And now, as Renjun read of his brother’s emotions, he realized the selfishness, not on the part of Kun, but instead his own self. He was away from home on the pure goodness of his family, and he had spent little time to worry or wait on his family’s well being.

Heaving a sigh, Renjun snatched the blank sheet of paper from the stack that lay nestled into the corner of the desk and lifted a wrist to sprawl across it, guilt ebbing his messy letters into pure scribbles of haphazard niceties and best wishes.

Renjun was a loving sibling, he knew that to be true, but the anxiety of distance and detachment – the anxiety of _growing up_ and _away_ – seemed to sprawl across the backs of his eyelids and in front of his vision like a mark made from the sun when stared at for a moment too long, and Renjun blinked rapidly in an effort to push it away. His eyes stung.

He would not abandon his siblings with the simple opportunities bestowed upon him of travel. He would not neglect his duty to entertain ramblings and support hopes simply because he happened to come into the acquaintance of a few more people (who were far less entertaining than his dearest brother’s). Renjun’s duty was to his family; it was to no man or woman, to no Donghyuck or Mr. Lee, and it was to no duty of learning propriety or gaining in marriage.

Renjun would not be selfish and he would not forget his home.

He addressed the letter and stood.

Walking along the street unaccompanied wasn’t a frightful thing per se, though dodging fast moving men and women did send a small quiver of nervous excitement shaking his fingers, it was simply more lonesome. The cobblestones shone with the wet of the afternoon, and the toes of Renjun’s shoes were soaked through from the splash of puddles that they’d begun to chafe as he scurried beside the streets, and it made the walk all the more excruciatingly long.

Normally, Renjun would be accompanied by a verbose boy with an exuberant laugh and bright smile (add in a little flirtatiousness into the mix with the occasional, albeit purposeful, crossing paths of two Mr. Lees and you just may have a carbon copy) that would transform the dull cobblestones of a rainy day in Bath into something no lesser than the sunniest days of the countryside.

Now, Renjun felt regret in comparing Donghyuck’s likeness with anything similar to home; they were far too different, and home far too special by its lonesome.

Though, as the blonde continued to stumble in a far off mindset, his expression adrift in the wonders of what was an acceptable amount of comfort in strange lands, and what would be taken as vain disdain toward home shown through a lack of remorse at leaving, Renjun found he couldn’t simply dismiss Donghyuck as nothing that reminded him of home (here Renjun chuckled at the thought of labeling the sunshine boy as ‘home-ly’). Donghyuck was the best things about Renjun’s home – he was Chenle’s whining tone, Yangyang’s teasing, and Kun’s altruism (even if he remained quite a bit of a gossip, Renjun acknowledged he’d taken him under his wing) – but what remained was that: Donghyuck was himself, and his home was that.

Renjun wondered whether the acceptance of that – the distinct difference between his family and newfound friend – truly had anything the matter. He wondered whether it was fair to blame constant distraction on a lack of homesickness, or if he had simply begun to accept his separation from his sibling. And he wondered if there was anything to be ashamed of in that (the pang in his gut sure made it seem so).

The spaces in the stones below his feet, dips that if he dug his toe into would send a jolt through him as he hurriedly steadied once more on his feet, were filled with small allotments of water that reflected the sky until he appeared to be walking on the dreary gray clouds. If Renjun hung his head low, his neck craned to peer toward the toes of his shoes that moved swiftly beneath his skirts, he found he could let his mind wander to the idea that he slid over the skies, similar to a cherub.

A pair of shined, black shoes appeared on the sea of clouds before him – a god-like figure and an angel twisted in the rippling cobblestone puddles until hands seemed to touch and bodies melded into one.

Renjun’s eyes shot up.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t the first time Renjun had nearly collided with a Mr. Lee, he had a feeling that the collision was constant, but still his heart released a harsh pound and he teetered slightly.

“Mr. Huang.” Had he ever heard him speak before? He supposed not as the words – nay, his name, spoken so breathlessly and soft that even his swallow seemed too loud in the face of his greeting – sent a soft tremble to his hands and he curled them into fists. His voice was low and gentle and Renjun ignored the strange tick it placed in his heartbeat. Jeno had bowed his head slightly in greeting and Renjun glanced to where a small few strands of hair fell over his forehead. His hands itched.

“Mr. Lee, it is not the most pleasant day, but made much pleasanter by my encountering you.” Renjun watched a soft pink spread over the tips of the gentleman’s ears and he furrowed his brows slightly, blinking his eyes to disperse the illusion. It wasn’t unlike him to force his eyes into tricks with his imagination – though it was unlike him to want such an illusion as a blush drawn from his words.

“Where do you walk, on your lonesome?”

Renjun sent a small smile toward his nicety and nodded his head in the direction just behind him, “I have come to post a letter, and then I will be on my way to wait on Mr. Lee.”

“Mr. Minhyung Lee?”

“No, a Mr. Donghyuck Lee.”

“I suppose it was unreasonable to ask after a Mr. Jeno Lee?” Renjun cracked a smile as _said_ Mr. Lee tilted his head alongside the quirk of his eyebrow.

“Shall you like it if I wait on a Mr. Jeno Lee?”

“Well, I shan’t say so to you personally whether I like it, though I imagine Mr. Lee may.” Renjun’s mouth cracked open with a laugh and he lifted his fingertips to cover his grin.

“And which Mr. Lee is that?”

“How should I have come to know?”

Renjun shook his head to himself, finding the man’s sudden talkative nature to be rather shocking in regard to the cold quiet he had held consistently in encounters past. Still, Jeno had not tilted his lips in a smile – neither from courtesy or joy. He straightened himself once more and regarded Renjun.

“I have just come from there – shall I accompany you to see to a returning letter?”

“Is it not too soon to have arrived?”

“If it is too soon then I shall see to your safe arrival at the Lees and return for it then.”

“And if your response has still not then arrived?”

“I shall weep. Will you have me?”

Renjun smiled softly and lifted a brow as he stepped forward. A peculiar man he seemed – to be able to uphold two facades of seemingly opposite dispositions. Still, the soft rasp of his voice had remained quiet, and the stoic resolve of his face had remained familiar.

The two resolved into a soft silence, accompanied only by the soft whirs of carriage wheels and the clack of hooves over cobblestone. Renjun felt each intake of breath from Jeno’s was like the twinkling of music in a chaotic silence, and he listened to the rhythmic breathing as his mind floated adrift and whirled far above their heads.

He pondered the disappearance of guilt from his gut.

“Mr. Lee?”

“Mn.”

“Are you often far from home?”

“En.” The contemplative and still quiet that had previously surrounded the man and enraptured Renjun’s curiosity had returned.

“Indeed,” Renjun wondered over the silence as Jeno didn’t elaborate. Skirts kissed across wool trousers and upper arms hugged together. Should he press closer? His cheeks colored will the impure thought and he pulled his arms closer to his chest, his hands itching with the phantom burn of a man’s coat jacket clenched within. “And are you positively happy?” his voice wavered only slightly.

“Do I find myself positively happy in being away from home?”

Renjun shrank into himself. “I suppose it may be an ill-mannered inquiry?”

“Indeed, it is not,” his voice was quiet under the ruckus of passers-by, “I simply wish to understand you correctly.”

“Then, yes. Does your being away evoke a manner of good or ill?”

“In truth, I find it neither.” Still, he provided no expansion on the simple statement.

“And is it unjust to impose on you an inquiry as to why?”

“It is not unjust. I do not wish to abandon home often, but I quite enjoy traveling.”

Renjun hesitated, his eyes trained once more on the puddles that reflected clouds and refractions of a heavenly sort of light – pure white and glinting with each small shift. “It is most natural to you to feel homesick?”

“Not particularly. It is most natural to me to look unto my return with joy, and look unto my travels with joy. I do not ponder the regret of being away, only hope for a timely return.” Jeno’s eyes were trained straight ahead when Renjun peered up from below his lashes. His hands were clasped into a knot behind his back and he walked a rigid posture. Renjun’s cheeks colored and he glanced away. Hadn’t this gentleman nearly caused him to topple over – what was this sudden coyness in his chest?

“Indeed, it seems a most particular way of viewing it – one that must create the most lively of joys.”

“How do you suppose so?” Renjun kept his eyes to the puddles as Jeno turned his chin toward him in inquiry.

“There is only bliss in returning and bliss in departing.”

“There is only bliss.”

“Quite. It seems a wonderful way of life.”

“Do you feel no bliss in your stays here, Mr. Huang?”

Renjun grew quiet for a moment too long. He shot a grin toward Jeno’s curious gaze and the taller’s expression turned aloof. (Were those pink ears though? They really did seem quite too vibrant to be of imagination.) “There is bliss; I’d declare myself mad did I not find these walks to fulfill a feeling of bliss.”

“Can one be earnest with sole bliss, Mr. Huang?”

“Is there much need in being earnest?”

“I wonder.”

Renjun slanted an eye toward Mr. Lee, his head downturned and a curtain of bangs shielding his vision in a haze of blonde. “Mr. Lee, do you never feel guilt in missing time from home?”

“One cannot live a life of pure bliss – and guilt is just important an emotion as such. Though, I dare say, Mr. Huang: Is there any shame in the learning of new experiences?”

The pair’s arrival at Donghyuck’s drawing room was an uneventful happening (no, a return letter addressed to a Mr. Jeno Lee had not arrived in the 30 minutes since its initial sending) and Renjun shook the skirts of his dress loose from where it’d grown bunched with foot travel.

The cushion below him was soft, and he took the opportunity to lean back shamelessly, his head tilted against the seat edge as a sigh bloomed from his lips. It was probably better his ignorance to Jeno’s slanted stare for embarrassment did not consume him for the act of unhidden impropriety. It had been weeks since Renjun had sat at ease without the hungry gazes of Donghyuck and Doyoung.

Mr. Lee didn't seem one to comment (maybe, on anything).

The door to the drawing room swung wide just as Renjun had released an exhale of relief from his reclined form, the pressure releasing from the slope of his spine as he sat. He bolted upright and stared to the heaving figure that grasped the doorframe.

Donghyuck’s form was spread wide; his arms clasping each side of the empty doorway, his legs parted to fill each gap at the bottom (so much so that Renjun was quite sure his slim form could crawl through – which he would not be doing). His hair was disheveled from the usual smoothly laid bangs he’d grown used to seeing and his chest heaved as though he’d just sprinted away from a danger of sorts.

“Mr. Lee. Please do collect Mr. Na from my courtyard.”

Perhaps it was a danger?

Mr. Lee tilted his head in question.

“He’s courting my brother and I simply mustn’t stay quiet.”

“Donghyuck, why mustn’t you stay so?” Renjun lifted onto his feet and took a soft step forward, his arm outstretched as though placating a wild animal. (His frazzled appearance did have an impeccable similarity to a cub). Renjun stifled a snort.

“He’s courting my brother!” It was a shrill question.

“I simply cannot see the fault in his doing so?”

“It was my most honorable intention to be married _before_ my brother of sixteen.” ( _Most honorable_? Honorable indeed, to display such improper woe to a gentleman over the happiness of your dearest brother’s future.) Renjun cocked an eyebrow. “By my word, how I had wished it to be a Mr. _Minhyung_ Lee to wait on my home – alas, it is instead a friend and a Mr. _Jeno_ Lee _.”_

“Pray, Donghyuck, do not exhibit your dismay as such. You offend a gentleman.”

“I do not take offence.”

“Upon my word, Mr. Lee,” Donghyuck started, lifting a hand to his chest, “I do believe these the first words you have spoken in my presence. Pray tell of your acquaintance Mr. Lee as I now know your tongue remains not muddled.”

“ _Mr. Lee_ ,” Renjun warned, this pointed to a Mr. _Donghyuck_ Lee (the conversation really was getting too confusing a matter), “I pray you _mind yourself_. To call a gentleman a mute – it is truly shameful.”

“Renjun, do you come to lecture me on propriety? When you have come to Bath for the sole reason of learning it?”

Renjun’s chest stung and he flinched from Donghyuck’s words. It was a different sense of pain from that which he’d felt with his palms clutched over crisp parchment just hours earlier. It was a sense of pain that had not stemmed from love and longing – but from offence and hurt. It curled in his chest like a rattlesnake coiling over his heart and into his throat, its rattle shaking at the base of his throat. He no longer felt like an angel on clouds. He needed to cough.

Renjun reminded himself of why he had come to wait on the Lees in the first place. He wished to return home – to see his brothers and to settle for less than Bath had to offer – if only for the sole reason of remaining connected to his family, if only to see three boys he loved more dearly than any other.

He would not abandon them – especially after all that had happened _then_.

Renjun straightened his spine and tilted his chin upward, inhaling through his nose with a soft flare of his nostrils as a hesitant anger untangled the snake over his heart and licked a flame into his gut. His stomach burned with the memory of the past.

“Indeed, I suppose that much is true. I have come from the country in pursuit of your city values and I have found I do not wish for much more of it. Thank you, Mr. Lee – Mr. Lee,” Renjun bowed twice to the two men in the room, “I will be on my way then. Do stop your brother if it plagues you so – of course, unless my country values are much too unlearned and improper to advise you of such.”

Renjun stepped from the room, squeezing past Donghyuck’s frozen form in the doorway and stepping through the hall. He followed behind a servant whose head remained downturned and locked his hand together into a tight fist behind his back. His stuttering steps rang loud through the house in their unorderly and hasty rhythm, before he found himself at the door of the manor. His skirts caught below his foot as he stepped from the doorway and he slid to the floor in a graceless trip.

“Mr. Huang.”

Renjun hissed. His knee was skinned.

“Are you alright?”

It was a low voice beside his ear and Renjun turned, his breath stuttering as he found the smooth pale of Jeno’s cheek just a minute gap from his nose – from his lips. He shuddered.

“I am sorry, Mr. Huang,” Jeno’s voice remained curt and monotone, but the gentle brush of his fingertips over the dress’ tear and his bloodied knee punctuated the softness in his words. Renjun flinched away from the unhidden touch.

“An apology is unneeded from you.”

“Allow me to accompany you back. It is I who helped you here and I cannot allow you to walk far with injury.”

‘It is a flesh wound’ Renjun wanted to say, ‘it only needs a small intent of care.’ He didn’t. His words were stuck in his throat and he simply nodded dully, pulling himself up limply until he stood on a throbbing knee and an unaffected one. Mr. Lee didn’t offer an arm, simply stood beside him and kept his pace as they walked on. It was only once the pair had reached the miniscule walkway to his uncles’ house that Jeno spoke up.

“If you wish to leave, Mr. Huang, I shan’t be the one to stop you from your wishes. If you wish to forget me, I shan’t be one to beg. But, Mr. Huang, do allow me to accompany you another day before then.”

✰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeno's first words ever are renjun's name (and it wasn't even purposeful)
> 
> been a while, how are you?
> 
> not the longest chapter ever but... drama is ensuing just a wee bit because our characters must learn! I may cut a few chapters from the final product, not sure...
> 
> here's the deal with jeno's character - i like silly characters, and it's unbelievably hard to write a darcy figure for me. so, we'll get a few jokes and wit from him but i'll try my hardest to make him stoic bc that's how i really want him to be...
> 
> as i edit (very lightly, i guarantee this isn't my best) and format this i'm watching nino's home - 'tis great.

**Author's Note:**

> these updates will probably be more sparse solely because this fic requires a lot more research and la vie personelle is starting back up. soon, i'll be headed to school on my computer and being frustrated with writing for my two english classes.
> 
> that said: i hope this is enjoyable and i'm very excited for my boys in ball gowns (normalize twisting history so boys wear dresses !)
> 
> love ya,  
> emily <3


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